


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: BDSM, Moresomes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, R/NC-17 - Red Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-06
Updated: 2008-04-06
Packaged: 2019-01-20 16:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: Pure PWP.





	Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is what happens when you decide to collate all the porn in the fandom into one post. Reading that much porn in one go makes for some *interesting* dreams. Enjoy.

Gene is taking it easy. It's late in the CID offices, just a skeleton staff elsewhere in the building. The lights are down low and Gene is in his office, sprawled on the battered old sofa, door locked.

 

 

That last bit is vital, what with his favourite subordinate being, well, so subordinate in front of him. Hot, wet, pink mouth wrapped around Gene's cock, suckling and laving. Tongue now caressing the tip, then taking the length whole, lips wrapping around the base.

 

 

But it's not such an easy ride. Gene is taking his time. It's been a bad week, all the more reason to take a few hours out, to relax. Sprawled on the sofa, for instance, shirt unbuttoned, his tie wrapped around the wrists of the man kneeling between his legs. Glass of whisky in one hand, ever present cigarette in the other. Down time, taking in the sights.

 

 

And what a sight it is.

 

 

Naked. That's such a good look on him. His skin glistening with sweat under the sole illuminated strip-light. The man's hands flutter, trapped as they are in the small of his back. Sweat drips down his forehead, hair plastered down, as his mouth and throat work, pink tongue darting in and out to moisten flesh. Not looking, never looking, endeavouring to do the best job he can. Do the best for his Guv.

 

 

Gene leans back, ever patient at times like these, head tilted as he takes another mouthful of scotch. Surely the man on his knees has earned some respite. It would be a kindness to let him rest, have a drink, catch his breath. Team-building is, after all, quite a chore.

 

 

But Gene just burrows deeper in to the sofa, sharing a slow smile with his partner in this. Why stop now, just as things are getting interesting? And besides, whisky stings.

* * * * *

The hard floor is unforgiving beneath her knees. She should be wearing leather, she thinks. Thigh-high boots would protect her from the chill of the concrete floor. A tight corset, stockings, suspenders, would add to the sheer visual feast.

 

 

But it doesn't matter, she realises. This isn't about some voyeuristic fantasy for some outsider. This is about sensation, about the two, no, three individuals in the room. The push and pull of two taking their slow, sweet time. The third not having much of a say in the matter.

 

 

So the cheap nylon shirt clings to her skin as the sweat of exertion runs down her back. Her skirt, bunched up over the harness, rubs against the naked man's buttocks with every thrust and riding up her legs at the back.

 

 

And still she keeps her rhythm.

 

 

She's come twice already. Twisting her fingers beneath the tight leather strap, searching for that little bit more friction. Hips stuttering in their previously smooth motion as she rides out the waves, muffled complaints from the man underneath her until she is able to regain control. Gene smirking down at her as he pulls on the man's hair in warning.

 

 

Gene isn't even close. Even with that hot, wet mouth sucking his cock, Gene hasn't come and she has twice. Annie doesn't know whether that makes her a slut or just an opportunist. And she realises that she doesn't really care. Not in this moment, not with that broad back in front of her, slick with sweat. Slick with blood from the scratches she has put there. Her painted nails vivid against the pale skin. Such a lovely boy.

 

 

Just as she starts to feel, finally, that this has gone on long enough, that her knees can't take that much more, Gene speeds up, pushing the other man's head down on his cock. Annie matches the rhythm, hands now grasping hips, fingers biting into flesh. Jerking her hips harder, pushing the man forwards, the rub of the leather is now just enough and she rides her orgasm silently, biting her lip to stop from crying out. 

 

 

Gene comes as silently and Annie pauses briefly before pulling out. Their playmate groans in frustration and she quickly reaches between his legs, grasping his cock and twisting hard.

 

 

"Not yet, Sammy-boy," she purrs in his ear. "We're not quite done yet."

 

 

_fin_


End file.
